Fix You
by itsaravenclawthing
Summary: After tragedy strikes 30-year-old Blaine Anderson, his family forces him to see a therapist, Dr. Kurt Hummel. AU. Written in first person.
1. Chapter 1

January 20th

BLAINE

"Blaine?"

I look up at the sound of my mother's voice.

"They called your name. It's your turn."

I sigh and stand up, the rubber chair making loud sounds. A kid across the waiting room laughs, says "it sounds like you farted mister."

I shoot him my scariest don't-fuck-with-me look, turning my red-rimmed eyes into slits, and he averts his gaze to his lap. I smirk, feeling sickly triumphant. Three months ago, that would have made me laugh. Maybe I would have squished the seat cushion again just to make the kid giggle.

Andrew would have loved it too.

I clench my jaw and bite the insides of my cheeks so hard I taste blood on my tongue and then follow the nurse through a few hallways into a room with light blue walls and cozy-looking furniture.

The nurse smiles at me, gestures for me to sit down, "just have a seat, make yourself comfortable."

I choose a brown leather couch, sit on the edge of it, fold my hands in my lap.

She smiles at me again, all teeth and says "Dr. Hummel will be in shortly."

She leaves the room and I look at my hands and close my eyes.

The second my lids shut, it all comes back to me.

_"ANDREW WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Screeching of tires, impact, pain..._

"Mr. Anderson?"

I open my eyes. There's a man standing in front of me. He's tall and impeccably dressed. He has kind blue eyes and a small smile on his face.

He sits down across from me and holds out a hand for me to shake.

I refuse to take it.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm Dr. Hummel. Can I call you Blaine?"

I keep my gaze on his. "Whatever."

He smiles. "Okay. Then you can call me Kurt."

I snort. "Kurt. Sure." I say.

He keeps that sweet fucking smile on his face.

"So...Blaine. Tell me why you're here."

I sigh and roll my eyes, thinking maybe he'll give up on me like everyone else has, but he waits patiently.

"I...because I tried to kill myself."

Kurt nods and writes something down on a notepad. "Uh-huh...and why was that?"

This time, I don't snarl or roll my eyes or sigh. I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them quickly, not wanting the flashbacks to start again.

Instead, I look down at my shoes, dusty old blue Converse that I've had since high school, that Andrew always said he hated, but every time I put them on, he would chuckle quietly and say, "you're the only person I know who could make those ugly things look good."

My heart lurches thinking about him, about Andrew, and I bite my cheeks again.

"Blaine? What are you thinking about?"

I look up.

"My husband," I whisper.

Kurt nods again. "From what I can gather, you were really in love with him."

I'm silent. I won't, I can't talk about Andrew.

"Blaine? Is that true?"

Silence. More silence. The clock ticking in the background. A dog barking outside.

"Blaine? Do you want to say anything?"

Silent again.

He writes something else down on his notepad and I can see it in my head_. "Patient unresponsive, pain in my ass, giving up on him."_

"Blaine, you can talk to me and try to let me help you, or we can sit here in silence for the next..." he looks at his watch, "thirty-eight minutes. It's up to you."

I glare at him and then stand up, gather my coat from the cushion beside me and head for the door.

"Fuck this." I mutter before opening the heavy oak door and slamming it behind me.

KURT

I step inside the door to my house and flip on a light. It's chilly, I turn the heat off when I'm at work, to save money, so with my coat still on, I adjust the thermostat to seventy degrees and wait for the radiator to come on. I deposit my heavy wool coat on the hook next to the door. My cat, Professor (short for Professor McGonagall) bounds out of my bedroom and starts rubbing up against my legs. I smile and scoop her up, then sit down on the couch and cover us with a blanket. She purrs loudly and curls up in my lap, goes to sleep, and I turn on the TV with the remote sitting next to me. I settle on an old cycle of America's Next Top Model and curl my legs underneath me, causing the Professor to open one eye and adjust her position in my lap. I smirk at her and lean my head against the back of the couch, silently relive my day in my head.

There was the mother who had lost her son, Agnes. I'm extremely proud of her, she's made a huge amount of progress since she started seeing me in October.

The little boy whose father molested him. He's a sweet kid. Also making a ton of progress and today was only his third appointment.

I always get paired with the most fucked up patients.

My colleagues get the JAPs who just need someone to listen to them, the wives trapped in sexless marriages. But I always end up with the seemingly incurable cases. And I like it that way. I like to really, truly help people who need me.

My mind drifts to the last patient I saw today. That young man, Blaine. I wasn't told much about him, besides the fact that his husband had died and he had attempted suicide. I like to know as little as possible about the patients I'm assigned to so that they can choose to open up to me.

Normally, most of my patients are a lot like Blaine. They were forced into therapy by someone who loves and cares for them. They don't want to be there, they don't want to talk to me. We usually sit in silence for the first session, but by the second, the spouse or the parent or the sibling or the best friend has convinced them to come back and we talk and slowly, things start to get better for them.

I'm proud of my patient success rate. All of my former patients keep in touch with me. Recently, I had dinner with a woman who was raped and beaten by her ex-husband. She lives on Long Island now with a new husband and three beautiful children.

I'm fucking good at my job. I know that.

But I've never had a patient walk out on me the way Blaine Anderson did today. Most of my patients are at least somewhat willing to get the help they need from me.

Blaine...for a few minutes he seemed...almost willing. But then, he shut down. The second he mentioned his husband, his eyes changed, from angry and defensive to sad, incredibly lonely.

Thinking about it now, I know this is what I'm going to have to work on. Getting Blane to talk about his husband. He's going to be tough, really tough, but if I can change his attitude towards me, just a little bit, if I can get him to talk about his husband, maybe I can get somewhere with him.

Maybe he'll be another success for me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

January 27th

BLAINE

I'm back. I'm back in Kurt's office against my will. My mother made me come here.

In my head, that statement sounds so elementary school. "I didn't want you to come to my birthday party but my mom made me invite you."

But it's true. She's the only reason I'm here. I told her I didn't want to come back here, that I didn't want to talk about Andrew and she started to cry. She said "I can't lose another member of my family," and sobbed, so I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her on the forehead, and said, "ma, if you want me to keep seeing the therapist, I'll do it. For you."

Kurt walks in, that smile still on his lips. He sits down in the chair across from me and smiles.

"So Blaine-"

"I'm not back here because I want to be." I cut him off.

He nods. "Perfectly understandable. Why are you here then?"

I sigh. "I'm doing this for my mother."

"Are you close with her?"

I nod my head. "She guilted me into it."

Kurt smiles, chuckles quietly. "She guilted you into it? How?"

I lick my lips and then speak. "She...she told me she didn't want to lose another member of her family."

Kurt cocks his head to the side. "Another?"

"My father passed away four years ago."

Kurt purses his lips and then says, "that must have been hard for you."

I smirk. "Not really."

"And why is that?"

It's quiet for a few moments. "For my older brother, yeah, it was pretty hard on him. He and I both had fucked up relationships with our dad. But he fixed things before my dad died. For my baby sister, it was even harder. She's always been a daddy's girl. But for me...he never cared about me. It wasn't a big deal for me when he died. He and I hadn't spoken in years. It was just another death. He didn't even come to my wedding."

Kurt nods. "You're telling me you weren't sad at all when your father passed? Not even a little?"

I sigh. "I mean...I guess I was a little bit. When I was little he and I were really close. He took my brother and I to baseball games and to the park. And then I came out my freshman year of high school and that's when the ignoring started. He wouldn't even look at me if I was sitting right next to him. He wasn't speaking to my brother either, because he wanted to be an actor. My sister was born when I was a senior in high school and he loved her. I did too. I do. But he...he treated her like she was his only child. She's thirteen now."

"Did you resent your sister for that?"

I shake my head. "No...I mean, it wasn't her fault our dad's an asshole."

"An asshole who wouldn't come to your wedding?"

I nod.

"Can we talk about that? Your wedding?" Kurt asks.

I'm silent again. No. No we can't talk about my wedding.

"Was it a happy day for you?"

"Can we just keep talking about my father?"

Kurt shakes his head and smiles. "I don't think your father is the root of the problem, Blaine. Are you going to answer my question?"

"No."

Kurt leans forward in his seat.

"Then let's talk about something else. Why don't you tell me something about your husband?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk about Andrew."

"Why not?" Kurt asks, his voice gentle.

"Because...because it hurts too much."

"Why? Tell me why it hurts to talk about your husband. Andrew was his name, correct?"

Before I can control it, tears start to sting the backs of my eyes. "Because I loved him. More than anything in the entire world. And he's gone."

"Is that why you attempted suicide, Blaine?"

I'm silent again. I'm done. I can't do this anymore.

"Blaine?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Please."

Kurt smiles at me. "Alright. You're not ready today. I accept that. We'll work more next week."

He stands up and gestures for me to stand too. I do, and he walks me to the door.

"Have a good week Blaine. I'm looking forward to our next session."

I don't say anything, just leave.

But I'm looking forward to next week, too. Just a little.

KURT

I watch Blaine walk out my office door. It's not until he's gone, probably out in the waiting room already, that I notice I'm still smiling.

Something about him pulls at my heart.

Maybe it's that we're both gay. Maybe it's that we've both experienced a lot of loss.

I'm not sure what it is, but it's something.

He's so handsome, too. Those sweet, sad brown eyes, like...a puppy. A bulldog or something. And those unruly curls.

He doesn't smile often. Actually, he doesn't smile at all, really. He smirks, but he pulls off that "I don't care about anyone or anything" expression very well. I can see, though, that he would be so handsome if he smiled. I imagine he used to smile a lot, a big, face-splitting grin that lit up a whole room. And that it all changed when his husband died. I remember how my father was right after my mother died. I guess it's the same for Blaine.

I check my watch and see that I've been standing in my office thinking about Blaine for fifteen minutes. I shake my head and pull on my coat, then head outside to the subway station.

BLAINE

"So what did you and Dr. Hummel talk about today?"

I lean my head against the window, the glass cold against my skin. "Not much. Just...stuff," I reply.

I hear my mom sigh, and mentally I can see her rolling her eyes.

"What _stuff_, Blaine?"

"I don't know, like...well, we talked about dad."

"You...you talked about your father?"

Her voice catches at this and I soften just a little. I can't deal with my mom crying. I can take a lot, but my mom crying is not something I can watch.

"Yeah. About dad."

Mom turns away from me and wipes her eyes. "And did you talk about Andrew at all?"

I clench my jaw. "I...I wasn't ready. To talk about Andrew."

"You know that's why you're seeing a therapist, don't you Blaine? To gain some kind of closure about Andrew?"

"Yeah, mom. I do," I sigh. It hurts so much to think about him. I don't want closure. I want my husband back.

"Does Dr. Hummel think you're making any progress?"

"I don't really know, ma. Can we stop talking about it?"

"Blaine-"

"Mom."

She knows I'm done now, that she won't get me to talk about today anymore, so she purses her lips and reaches over the seat to squeeze my hand.

"I miss him, mom." I whisper.

She gives me a meaningful look and squeezes my hand again, leans over and kisses me on the cheek as we stop at a red light.

"Is Lizzie home yet?" I ask, hoping the answer is yes. No one can make me smile anymore, except my little sister.

"Yes. Sammy's mom dropped her off this morning."

I nod, glad she's back, as we pull into the driveway of the house I grew up in. I get out of the car and bound up to the stairs, but before I can put my key in the front door, my sister answers.

"Hey, B!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around me.

"Lizard!" I pick her up and spin her around, and she laughs.

"You know I'm not a little kid anymore right? And that eventually you won't be able to do that?"

I muss her curls and she flicks my forehead. "You're always gonna be a baby. How was your ski trip?"

Lizzie scowls and leads me into the living room, where we flop down on opposite couches. "It was alright. All my friends were trying to get these guys to notice us the whole time. I was the only one who actually wanted to go skiing."

"Keep it that way," I tell her. She laughs at me, her big brother being all protective. But I'm not joking. She's only thirteen. She can't possibly understand how much falling in love sucks. I'm thirty. I know this stuff.

I don't want Lizzie to ever experience anything I have.

Every experience I've ever had with love has ended terribly.

Lizzie doesn't deserve that.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

February 3rd

BLAINE

Session three with Kurt. I was weirdly excited for this one.

Not excited, actually. That's not the right word.

I was...anticipating it. I don't know why. All day today, I've been...waiting. All antsy and weird. I woke up at 4:30 AM. I couldn't go back to sleep. So I woke up my sister, told her to get dressed, took her out to breakfast, and then drove her to school.

After that, I didn't know what to do with myself. I went to the library, took out a book. I tore through it in an hour and then went back to the library and returned it. I went grocery shopping for my mother. I cooked us both a big lunch and dropped leftovers off for Lizzie at school. I cleaned the whole kitchen top to bottom, so that the countertops literally sparkle.

I picked up Lizzie from school, dropped her off at home and then it was 3:00, time to go.

I walk into Kurt's office at 3:30, right on time and he smiles at me. "You seem to be in a good mood today, Blaine," he says as I sit on the couch. "Want to talk about that?"

"I had...a productive day, I guess," I say.

"Productive? How so?"

I start ticking off everything I did on my fingers and Kurt smiles and nods at each one, then writes them down.

"It sounds to me like you spent a lot of time with your sister today. Did you enjoy that?"

I nod, fighting a smile. "Yeah. I love my sister."

"Even though she's...seventeen years younger than you? Is that correct?"

"Yeah, she's thirteen. I just...she's so innocent. I want her to keep that for as long as possible, you know? She's never had her heart broken, she's never...fallen in love or out of love. I want to keep her from all that stuff."

Kurt cocks his head and looks at me. "Keep her from what stuff? Love?"

"I...yeah. Love, I guess. And heartbreak. And sadness. All that stuff...it happens when you fall in love."

"Not necessarily. Why do you think that, Blaine?"

"Because...I mean...I fell in love. And look what happened to me. I'm here."

"In therapy."

"Yeah."

"So...you wish you hadn't fallen in love?"

"Yeah. I wish it had never happened to me."

Kurt jots something down and then looks back up at me. "You regret meeting Andrew? Falling in love with him? Marrying him?"

I'm silent. That's not what I meant. I didn't mean that at all. I could never regret Andrew.

"Blaine? Do you regret it?"

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes.

"Then what do you regret?"

I sigh, let the tears fall down my cheeks. "Not being enough for him."

"What do you mean by that Blaine?"

I shake my head again. I can't do this. Not now. Not today.

"Blaine. I need you to answer me."

"I...couldn't help him. He needed me. And I couldn't do anything. I just...I..."

"Am I pushing you, Blaine? Is this too much?"

I nod, more and more tears starting to pour out. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, squeeze them shut, bite my lip.

"You can cry here if you need to, Blaine. It's just you and me. You don't have to be brave for anybody."

Something about the gentleness in Kurt's voice, the tenderness in his tone, hits me in just the right spot and I completely lose it. I'm sobbing uncontrollably and I can't make myself stop. Kurt is handing me tissues and I'm burying my face in my hands and my shoulders are shaking and I'm gasping for air, but I feel _better_. It feels good to cry, to sob, to let myself be sad.

Slowly, it subsides and my heartbeat is regular again, my nose stops running. I sniffle a few times and look up to see Kurt smiling gently at me.

"Feeling better?" He asks.

I nod. "Surprisingly, yeah."

"I'm glad. Do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

"We'll, for starters why you cried like that. Before, you were saying you weren't enough for Andrew. What did you mean by that?"

Even after all that crying, I still don't think I'm ready. "Can I just go? I'm not feeling up to it."

Kurt nods, a tight smile on his face. "Sure. I'll see you next week, Blaine."

I nod and stand up, push my arms through my coat sleeves and head out for the door.

"Blaine?"

I turn and look Kurt straight in the eyes.

"This is progress. I'm proud of you."

KURT

The only light on in my entire house, a big, beautiful old Brownstone in Chelsea, is the TV in my bedroom. I'm sitting on my bed, watching The Late Show with the Professor curled up next to me.

The audience on the TV is laughing at some joke but I can't seem to concentrate on it. I can't get Blaine out of my head. Seeing him cry like that...it stuck with me. After work, I had dinner with Rachel and my father, who was in town for the weekend, and couldn't even stop thinking about him then. At one point Rachel asked me something and I was so absorbed in thinking about Blaine, in trying to figure out what I could possibly do for him that I didn't even hear her.

Something about him is...haunting. Underneath all this sadness and anger, I can see that Blaine Anderson could be a wonderful person. He loves his family, he loved-_still loves_-his husband. I can see in my mind that being loved by Blaine Anderson must be nice. He must love with all his heart, his whole self. I bet he devotes all his time to you if he loves you, sends you flowers and gifts in the middle of the day just because he feels like it. Maybe he slips a sweet note in your back pocket when you're not looking, and then when you go to take out a dollar or two later you find it and it makes you smile. I bet he wraps his arms around you while you sleep, and I bet it makes you feel safe. He might wake you up in the morning with a soft kiss on your lips...

I close my eyes. Being loved by Blaine Anderson must be the loveliest thing in the world.

Suddenly, my eyes shoot open. Why am I thinking about a patient like this? What am I doing? Yes, he's handsome. And yes, I haven't been able to get him off my mind. But...that can't mean anything. I'm thinking about him because...because he's a new patient. And he is...interesting.

That's all it is. Blaine Anderson is interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

February 10th

BLAINE

"I'll pick you up at the end of your session. Remember, we're having dinner with your brother tonight."

"Uh-huh. I'll see you in an hour, mom."

She kisses me on the cheek and I get out of the car, walk into Kurt's office.

"How are you today, Blaine?" he asks. I sit down on the couch.

"I'm...okay," I reply, shuffling off my coat and scarf.

"Just okay?" he asks, smirking.

"Yeah. Not good. Not bad. I'm okay."

Kurt nods. "Alright. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you okay today?"

"Because...I don't know. I'm having dinner with my mom and my siblings."

He smiles at me. "That sounds nice. Are you excited?"

"I guess so," I answer. "It'll be nice to have the whole family together."

Again, Kurt smiles at me. "Blaine...I want you to try something today. Are you open to trying?"

I nod. "I mean...I guess I am."

"Okay. I know that up until now, you haven't felt ready to talk about Andrew. But today...today I want you to tell me something you loved about him. I want you to pick something and...tell me about it in detail. It could be...an anecdote, a physical characteristic, a personality trait. Do you think you can do that for me?"

I gulp, look at my shoes. I'm not ready. I'm so not ready. "I don't...I don't know."

"You need to be ready today, Blaine. Do you know why?"

I shake my head.

"Becuase if you don't start talking about Andrew now, you'll never be ready. You'll suffer like this for the rest of your life. Do you want that for yourself?"

Again, I shake my head.

"I don't want that for you either, Blaine. So. What do you say? Ready?"

"I have to be, don't I?"

Kurt grins at me and then leans forward, puts his elbows on his lap. "So. Tell me one thing you loved about your husband."

I rack my brain for a few seconds. There were so many things I loved about Andrew. I loved everything about Andrew.

"He was smart," I say finally.

Kurt gives me a look that silently urges me to keep going.

"Mind-blowingly smart. I mean...I'm fairly smart. I was in the top 10% in high school. Phi Theta Kappa in college. But...I had to work hard to keep up with Andrew. He was always...reading some really new book or some really old book. At any given time he had two, three books on him or near him. And he...he was always coming up with these amazing ideas for things, for his students."

"His students?"

"He was a high school English teacher. In the Bronx. His students loved him. He did the most incredible things with those kids. Once, he did this collaborative project with them where they wrote an entire three-act play about the neighborhood. And then they actually performed it. And it was really amazing. When I saw it, I couldn't believe it was written by high school students, but then I remembered that they were Andrew's students, so it was perfectly possible."

"It sounds like he loved his job."

I nod. "He did. He loved those kids so much. He used to offer them free tutoring, book clubs, after-school activities just to get them off the streets, and it did. People talk about teachers making a difference in childrens' lives all the time, but he really did. After...after he...he died..."

My voice breaks. I take a minute to gain my composure and when I look up, Kurt is smiling encouragingly at me. "Go on, Blaine. You're doing beautifully."

I blink once, twice, and then keep going. "After he died...I got so many letters from his students. Cards, flowers, gifts, telling me how much they loved him and how much he'd be missed. They shared stories about him. One girl wrote about how she'd come to him in his office one day. She told him she was pregnant and that she wanted to keep the baby, but her boyfriend didn't know and would want her to abort, and that her father would beat her if he found out. Andrew found her a shelter she could stay at, found her a doctor, got the police involved about her father. She said she lives in Brooklyn now with her son, and goes to college at night. She said she wants to become a teacher because of Andrew."

"Tell me something else about him. Something else that you loved."

This time, I don't hesitate. "He was so amazingly kind. He would go out some weekends and buy all this food from Duane Reade and McDonald's and all these pizza places and he would just...hand it out to homeless people he saw on the street. And if he didn't have any food, he always gave them whatever change he had. And uhm...you know how when you get up to the register at a store, the cashier always says 'hi, welcome to wherever, how are you today?' Andrew would always ask them how they were, too. He held doors for people who were halfway across a room. He would wait for half an hour in the rain just to hail a cab, and then when he got one, he would let somebody else have it. He just...all he ever wanted to do was make people's lives better."

Kurt smiles. "He sounds like an amazing person."

"He was," I nod. I can almost feel a smile on my lips. "He really was."

Now," Kurt says, scribbling something on his notepad, "I want to try something else. Are you ready?"

"I...I think so."

"Good. I want you to tell me about your life with Andrew. How you met, your happiest memory, your wedding day, your first kiss."

Again, I gulp, ready myself, and start. "We...met in college. I was a music ed major. He was double majoring in English and education. He was in my keyboard class. I've been playing since I was six, he couldn't even find middle C. He asked me to tutor him. So...we started meeting in practice rooms after class and on weekends. And then...it became...you know, something more. Our first date was this student production that my roommate was in. It was terrible but...I got to be with Andrew. And that was perfect. Afterward, I walked him back to his dorm and...we kissed. It was...magic. That's all I can think of to describe it. Everything in the world just came together at once and I understood everything I ever needed to and...that's when I knew I was going to marry him."

"Keep going, Blaine."

"Okay. Uhm...our happiest memory. I guess...our wedding. It was beautiful. We got married on the beach in the Hamptons. His sister had a country club membership and the reception was there. It was...the most perfect night. I can't ever remember being that happy. My brother, Cooper was my best man. His best friend from high school was his. My sister, Lizzie, she was eight at the time, and his niece were our flower girls. We wrote our own vows. We kissed. We cut the cake. It was amazing. It was perfect."

"Was it a happy marriage?"

I nod. "Yeah. It was great. Our friends would always talk about fighting with their husbands or wives and we would just laugh. We didn't understand it. How could you fight with the love of your life? We were...we were so happy. We were...getting ready to start a family, and then..."

"And then?"

"And then...everything fell apart. And..."

"Blaine. I want you to keep going. How did everything fall apart?"

I shake my head. "I can't...I'm not there yet. I can't...I can't talk about what happened."

Kurt nods and then clicks his pen closed. "I understand that. But for our next session...I want you to be prepared to tell me what happened. Okay?"

"I...I'll try."

Kurt smiles at me. "Good. I'm proud of you today, Blaine."

I nod back at him, half-smile, put on all my winter gear, and then leave.

KURT

Feb 11th

"I just...I don't know why I can't stop thinking about him, Rach. I don't know what it is."

I'm having breakfast with Rachel, my best friend. She smiles sympathetically at me as she takes a bite of her vegan omelet. "Maybe...maybe you relate to him?"

I shrug. "Maybe. I don't know. He just...there's so much to him, you know?"

Rachel nods. "Well maybe...maybe you just...want him to get better because...because he has a lot of potential."

"I guess," I sigh, taking a bite of my crepes. It's quiet for a few moments, just the two of us eating our breakfast, drinking our coffee.

"Kurt?" Rachel asks.

"Mhm?" I reply, mouth full of strawberries and whipped cream.

"Do you think that maybe you have fe-"

"Don't say it, Rachel Barbra Berry."

"You might have feel-"

"_Rachel."_

"Feeli-"

"_Don't, _Rachel."

"Do you think maybe you might have feelings for him?

I drop my fork loudly on my plate and look at her pointedly. "What the _fuck_ would make you think that?"

"Well...you haven't been with anybody since that son of a bitch Ben, I haven't even _heard_ about anybody since that fucking prick. And now all of a sudden it's this Blaine guy. _Blaine, Blaine, Blaine._ You're always thinking about him, always talking about him. It's only logical for me to draw the conclusion that-"

"I do _not _have feelings for him, Rachel. He is a _patient_."

"Sure. Alright. Fine. Tell yourself that."

"I mean it, Rach. I don't have feelings for a patient. That's...unethical."

"That doesn't make it impossible."

"It's inappropriate."

"That still doesn't make it impossible, Kurt."

I glare at her for a few seconds before she opens her mouth again to speak. "What's wrong with him, anyway?"

I roll my eyes. "Nothing is _wrong_ with him, Rachel. He just has a lot of unresolved issues."

"Like what?"

Again, I roll my eyes. "You know I can't tell you that. I shouldn't have even told you his name. He's just...he's been through a lot. I'll leave it there."

Rachel nods. By the grace of God she accepts my answer. "So…have you been? I mean…you know. With everything."

"Everything?" I ask.

"How are you feeling? About yourself?" she continues.

I know what she means. Of course I do. I nod and smile, tight-lipped. "I'm okay. Some days are better than others."

"And today?"

"Is a better-than-others day."

We eat the rest of our breakfast and converse about different subjects. The audition she had the other night, her dads, a million things.

Thankfully, the conversation doesn't drift back to Blaine Anderson.


End file.
